Waverley, by Sir Walter Scott

Chapter XVI

An Unexpected Ally Appears

The Baron returned at the dinner-hour, and had in a great measure recovered his composure and
good-humour. He not only confirmed the stories which Edward had heard from Rose and Bailie Macwheeble, but added many
anecdotes from his own experience, concerning the state of the Highlands and their inhabitants. The chiefs he
pronounced to be, in general, gentlemen of great honour and high pedigree, whose word was accounted as a law by all
those of their own sept, or clan. ‘It did not indeed,’ he said, ‘become them, as had occurred in late instances, to
propone their prosapia, a lineage which rested for the most part on the vain and fond rhymes of their seannachies or
bhairds, as aequiponderate with the evidence of ancient charters and royal grants of antiquity, conferred upon
distinguished houses in the Low Country by divers Scottish monarchs; nevertheless, such was their outrecuidance and
presumption, as to undervalue those who possessed such evidents, as if they held their lands in a sheep’s skin.’

This, by the way, pretty well explained the cause of quarrel between the Baron and his Highland ally. But he went on
to state so many curious particulars concerning the manners, customs, and habits of this patriarchal race that Edward’s
curiosity became highly interested, and he inquired whether it was possible to make with safety an excursion into the
neighbouring Highlands, whose dusky barrier of mountains had already excited his wish to penetrate beyond them. The
Baron assured his guest that nothing would be more easy, providing this quarrel were first made up, since he could
himself give him letters to many of the distinguished chiefs, who would receive him with the utmost courtesy and
hospitality.

While they were on this topic, the door suddenly opened, and, ushered by Saunders Saunderson, a Highlander, fully
armed and equipped, entered the apartment. Had it not been that Saunders acted the part of master of the ceremonies to
this martial apparition, without appearing to deviate from his usual composure, and that neither Mr. Bradwardine nor
Rose exhibited any emotion, Edward would certainly have thought the intrusion hostile. As it was, he started at the
sight of what he had not yet happened to see, a mountaineer in his full national costume. The individual Gael was a
stout, dark, young man, of low stature, the ample folds of whose plaid added to the appearance of strength which his
person exhibited. The short kilt, or petticoat, showed his sinewy and clean-made limbs; the goatskin purse, flanked by
the usual defences, a dirk and steel-wrought pistol, hung before him; his bonnet had a short feather, which indicated
his claim to be treated as a duinhe-wassel, or sort of gentleman; a broadsword dangled by his side, a target hung upon
his shoulder, and a long Spanish fowling-piece occupied one of his hands. With the other hand he pulled off his bonnet,
and the Baron, who well knew their customs, and the proper mode of addressing them, immediately said, with an air of
dignity, but without rising, and much, as Edward thought, in the manner of a prince receiving an embassy, ‘Welcome,
Evan Dhu Maccombich; what news from Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich lan Vohr?’

‘Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich lan Vohr,’ said the ambassador, in good English, ‘greets you well, Baron of Bradwardine and
Tully-Veolan, and is sorry there has been a thick cloud interposed between you and him, which has kept you from seeing
and considering the friendship and alliances that have been between your houses and forebears of old; and he prays you
that the cloud may pass away, and that things may be as they have been heretofore between the clan Ivor and the house
of Bradwardine, when there was an egg between them for a flint and a knife for a sword. And he expects you will also
say, you are sorry for the cloud, and no man shall hereafter ask whether it descended from the bill to the valley, or
rose from the valley to the hill; for they never struck with the scabbard who did not receive with the sword, and woe
to him who would lose his friend for the stormy cloud of a spring morning.’

To this the Baron of Bradwardine answered with suitable dignity, that he knew the chief of Clan Ivor to be a
well-wisher to the King, and he was sorry there should have been a cloud between him and any gentleman of such sound
principles, ‘for when folks are banding together, feeble is he who hath no brother.’

This appearing perfectly satisfactory, that the peace between these august persons might be duly solemnised, the
Baron ordered a stoup of usquebaugh, and, filling a glass, drank to the health and prosperity of Mac-Ivor of
Glennaquoich; upon which the Celtic ambassador, to requite his politeness, turned down a mighty bumper of the same
generous liquor, seasoned with his good wishes to the house of Bradwardine.

Having thus ratified the preliminaries of the general treaty of pacification, the envoy retired to adjust with Mr.
Macwheeble some subordinate articles with which it was not thought necessary to trouble the Baron. These probably
referred to the discontinuance of the subsidy, and apparently the Bailie found means to satisfy their ally, without
suffering his master to suppose that his dignity was compromised. At least, it is certain, that after the
plenipotentiaries had drunk a bottle of brandy in single drams, which seemed to have no more effect upon such seasoned
vessels than if it had been poured upon the two bears at the top of the avenue, Evan Dhu Maccombich, having possessed
himself of all the information which he could procure respecting the robbery of the preceding night, declared his
intention to set off immediately in pursuit of the cattle, which he pronounced to be ‘no that far off; they have broken
the bone,’ he observed, ‘but they have had no tune to suck the marrow.’

Our hero, who had attended Evan Dhu during his perquisitions, was much struck with the ingenuity which he displayed
in collecting information, and the precise and pointed conclusions which he drew from it. Evan Dhu, on his part, was
obviously flattered with the attention of Waverley, the interest he seemed to take in his inquiries, and his curiosity
about the customs and scenery of the Highlands. Without much ceremony he invited Edward to accompany him on a short
walk of ten or fifteen miles into the mountains, and see the place where the cattle were conveyed to; adding, ‘If it be
as I suppose, you never saw such a place in your life, nor ever will, unless you go with me or the like of me.’

Our hero, feeling his curiosity considerably excited by the idea of visiting the den of a Highland Cacus, took,
however, the precaution to inquire if his guide might be trusted. He was assured that the invitation would on no
account have been given had there been the least danger, and that all he had to apprehend was a little fatigue; and, as
Evan proposed he should pass a day at his Chieftain’s house in returning, where he would be sure of good accommodation
and an excellent welcome, there seemed nothing very formidable in the task he undertook. Rose, indeed, turned pale when
she heard of it; but her father, who loved the spirited curiosity of his young friend, did not attempt to damp it by an
alarm of danger which really did not exist, and a knapsack, with a few necessaries, being bound on the shoulders of a
sort of deputy gamekeeper, our hero set forth with a fowling-piece in his hand, accompanied by his new friend Evan Dhu,
and followed by the gamekeeper aforesaid, and by two wild Highlanders, the attendants of Evan, one of whom had upon his
shoulder a hatchet at the end of a pole, called a Lochaber-axe,38 and the
other a long ducking-gun. Evan, upon Edward’s inquiry, gave him to understand that this martial escort was by no means
necessary as a guard, but merely, as he said, drawing up and adjusting his plaid with an air of dignity, that he might
appear decently at Tully-Veolan, and as Vich Ian Vohr’s foster-brother ought to do. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘if you Saxon
duinhe-wassel (English gentleman) saw but the Chief with his tail on!’

‘With his tail on?’ echoed Edward in some surprise.

‘Yes — that is, with all his usual followers, when he visits those of the same rank. There is,’ he continued,
stopping and drawing himself proudly up, while he counted upon his fingers the several officers of his chief’s retinue;
‘there is his hanchman, or right-hand man; then his bard, or poet; then his bladier, or orator, to make harangues to
the great folks whom he visits; then his gilly-more, or armour-bearer, to carry his sword and target, and his gun; then
his gilly-casfliuch, who carries him on his back through the sikes and brooks; then his gilly-comstrian, to lead his
horse by the bridle in steep and difficult paths; then his gilly-trushharnish, to carry his knapsack; and the piper and
the piper’s man, and it may be a dozen young lads beside, that have no business, but are just boys of the belt, to
follow the Laird and do his honour’s bidding.’

‘All these?’ replied Evan; ‘ay, and many a fair head beside, that would not ken where to lay itself, but for the
mickle barn at Glennaquoich.’

With similar tales of the grandeur of the Chief in peace and war, Evan Dhu beguiled the way till they approached
more closely those huge mountains which Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. It was towards evening as they
entered one of the tremendous passes which afford communication between the high and low country; the path, which was
extremely steep and rugged, winded up a chasm between two tremendous rocks, following the passage which a foaming
stream, that brawled far below, appeared to have worn for itself in the course of ages. A few slanting beams of the
sun, which was now setting, reached the water in its darksome bed, and showed it partially, chafed by a hundred rocks
and broken by a hundred falls. The descent from the path to the stream was a mere precipice, with here and there a
projecting fragment of granite, or a scathed tree, which had warped its twisted roots into the fissures of the rock. On
the right hand, the mountain rose above the path with almost equal inaccessibility; but the hill on the opposite side
displayed a shroud of copsewood, with which some pines were intermingled.

‘This,’ said Evan, ‘is the pass of Bally-Brough, which was kept in former times by ten of the clan Donnochie against
a hundred of the Low-Country carles. The graves of the slain are still to be seen in that little corrie, or bottom, on
the opposite side of the burn; if your eyes are good, you may see the green specks among the heather. See, there is an
earn, which you Southrons call an eagle. You have no such birds as that in England. He is going to fetch his supper
from the Laird of Bradwardine’s braes, but I ‘ll send a slug after him.’

He fired his piece accordingly, but missed the superb monarch of the feathered tribes, who, without noticing the
attempt to annoy him, continued his majestic flight to the southward. A thousand birds of prey, hawks, kites,
carrion-crows, and ravens, disturbed from the lodgings which they had just taken up for the evening, rose at the report
of the gun, and mingled their hoarse and discordant notes with the echoes which replied to it, and with the roar of the
mountain cataracts. Evan, a little disconcerted at having missed his mark, when he meant to have displayed peculiar
dexterity, covered his confusion by whistling part of a pibroch as he reloaded his piece, and proceeded in silence up
the pass.

It issued in a narrow glen, between two mountains, both very lofty and covered with heath. The brook continued to be
their companion, and they advanced up its mazes, crossing them now and then, on which occasions Evan Dhu uniformly
offered the assistance of his attendants to carry over Edward; but our hero, who had been always a tolerable
pedestrian, declined the accommodation, and obviously rose in his guide’s opinion, by showing that he did not fear
wetting his feet. Indeed he was anxious, so far as he could without affectation, to remove the opinion which Evan
seemed to entertain of the effeminacy of the Lowlanders, and particularly of the English.

Through the gorge of this glen they found access to a black bog, of tremendous extent, full of large pit-holes,
which they traversed with great difficulty and some danger, by tracks which no one but a Highlander could have
followed. The path itself, or rather the portion of more solid ground on which the travellers half walked, half waded,
was rough, broken, and in many places quaggy and unsound. Sometimes the ground was so completely unsafe that it was
necessary to spring from one hillock to another, the space between being incapable of bearing the human weight. This
was an easy matter to the Highlanders, who wore thin-soled brogues fit for the purpose, and moved with a peculiar
springing step; but Edward began to find the exercise, to which he was unaccustomed, more fatiguing than he expected.
The lingering twilight served to show them through this Serbonian bog, but deserted them almost totally at the bottom
of a steep and very stony hill, which it was the travellers’ next toilsome task to ascend. The night, however, was
pleasant, and not dark; and Waverley, calling up mental energy to support personal fatigue, held on his march
gallantly, though envying in his heart his Highland attendants, who continued, without a symptom of abated vigour, the
rapid and swinging pace, or rather trot, which, according to his computation, had already brought them fifteen miles
upon their journey.

After crossing this mountain and descending on the other side towards a thick wood, Evan Dhu held some conference
with his Highland attendants, in consequence of which Edward’s baggage was shifted from the shoulders of the gamekeeper
to those of one of the gillies, and the former was sent off with the other mountaineer in a direction different from
that of the three remaining travellers. On asking the meaning of this separation, Waverley was told that the Lowlander
must go to a hamlet about three miles off for the night; for unless it was some very particular friend, Donald Bean
Lean, the worthy person whom they supposed to be possessed of the cattle, did not much approve of strangers approaching
his retreat. This seemed reasonable, and silenced a qualm of suspicion which came across Edward’s mind when he saw
himself, at such a place and such an hour, deprived of his only Lowland companion. And Evan immediately afterwards
added,‘that indeed he himself had better get forward, and announce their approach to Donald Bean Lean, as the arrival
of a sidier roy (red soldier) might otherwise be a disagreeable surprise.’ And without waiting for an answer, in jockey
phrase, he trotted out, and putting himself to a very round pace, was out of sight in an instant.

Waverley was now left to his own meditations, for his attendant with the battle-axe spoke very little English. They
were traversing a thick, and, as it seemed, an endless wood of pines, and consequently the path was altogether
indiscernible in the murky darkness which surrounded them. The Highlander, however, seemed to trace it by instinct,
without the hesitation of a moment, and Edward followed his footsteps as close as he could.

After journeying a considerable time in silence, he could not help asking, ‘Was it far to the end of their
journey?’

‘Ta cove was tree, four mile; but as duinhe-wassel was a wee taiglit, Donald could, tat is, might — would — should
send ta curragh.’

This conveyed no information. The curragh which was promised might be a man, a horse, a cart, or chaise; and no more
could be got from the man with the battle-axe but a repetition of ‘Aich ay! ta curragh.’

But in a short time Edward began to conceive his meaning, when, issuing from the wood, he found himself on the banks
of a large river or lake, where his conductor gave him to understand they must sit down for a little while. The moon,
which now began to rise, showed obscurely the expanse of water which spread before them, and the shapeless and
indistinct forms of mountains with which it seemed to be surrounded. The cool and yet mild air of the summer night
refreshed Waverley after his rapid and toilsome walk; and the perfume which it wafted from the birch trees,39 bathed in the evening dew, was exquisitely fragrant.

He had now time to give himself up to the full romance of his situation. Here he sate on the banks of an unknown
lake, under the guidance of a wild native, whose language was unknown to him, on a visit to the den of some renowned
outlaw, a second Robin Hood, perhaps, or Adam o’ Gordon, and that at deep midnight, through scenes of difficulty and
toil, separated from his attendant, left by his guide. What a variety of incidents for the exercise of a romantic
imagination, and all enhanced by the solemn feeling of uncertainty at least, if not of danger! The only circumstance
which assorted ill with the rest was the cause of his journey — the Baron’s milk-cows! this degrading incident he kept
in the background.

While wrapt in these dreams of imagination, his companion gently touched him, and, pointing in a direction nearly
straight across the lake, said, ‘Yon’s ta cove.’ A small point of light was seen to twinkle in the direction in which
he pointed, and, gradually increasing in size and lustre, seemed to flicker like a meteor upon the verge of the
horizon. While Edward watched this phenomenon, the distant dash of oars was heard. The measured sound approached near
and more near, and presently a loud whistle was heard in the same direction. His friend with the battle-axe immediately
whistled clear and shrill, in reply to the signal, and a boat, manned with four or five Highlanders, pushed for a
little inlet, near which Edward was sitting. He advanced to meet them with his attendant, was immediately assisted into
the boat by the officious attention of two stout mountaineers, and had no sooner seated himself than they resumed their
oars, and began to row across the lake with great rapidity.

38 The Town-guard of Edinburgh were, till a late period, armed with this
weapon when on their police-duty. There was a hook at the back of the axe, which the ancient Highlanders used to assist
them to climb over walls, fixing the hook upon it and raising themselves by the handle. The axe, which was also much
used by the natives of Ireland, is supposed to have been introduced into both countries from Scandinavia.

39 It is not the weeping birch, the most common species in the Highlands,
but the woolly-leaved Lowland birch, that is distinguished by this fragrance.